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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23486188">No Two Hearts So Open</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RewriteThisStory/pseuds/RewriteThisStory'>RewriteThisStory</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanditon (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>50 Ways to Sanditon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:27:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23486188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RewriteThisStory/pseuds/RewriteThisStory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of a twist on Episode 8.  (We need all the happy twists to that episode that we can get, right?) </p><p> </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>118</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>No Two Hearts So Open</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>50 ways to Sanditon challenge #3 (with SanditonCreative on Tumblr)</p><p>I am having too much fun with this.  And I am so tickled to have time (and ideas!) to write.    </p><p>I chose the Austen Special tourist pack.  Prompt used: no two hearts so open</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Charlotte sat alone in her room at her writing desk, composing a letter to her sister. It was mid-afternoon, so the family was also indoors, shying away from the hottest part of the day.  It was warm in the room, but the window provided a bit of a respite as she could look out and imagine she felt the sea breeze.  </p><p>She and the entire Parker family waited anxiously for Sidney’s arrival.  It seemed as if half her summer had been spent with Tom anticipating his brother’s return.  This was the first time she had shared that emotion.  </p><p>She found it made her impatient, and almost as inattentive as Tom to everyone else in the room- and it grew worse as the days wore on. Her mind was filled with Sidney and the promise of their conversation. </p><p>She stifled a yawn with her hand. She’d been up late, unable to quiet her mind; and had awoken early, her thoughts unable to be tamed even in sleep.  She’d crept out of the house so as not to disturb anyone else with her preoccupation.  Her mind pointed her feet toward the clifftops, now one of her favorite paths, and watched the sun rise.  </p><p>She turned her focus back to her letter.  She hadn’t written to Alison in some time, so she was determined to finish this letter in time for the next post. She tried to reread what she had written with heavy eyes, but the words swam on the page.  She blinked and tried again.  Perhaps, if she just laid her head down for a moment- then she could concentrate.  </p><p>She had no sooner had this thought than the children began shouting that Uncle Sidney had arrived.  </p><p>Her letter forgotten, Charlotte rushed down the stairs to greet her beloved.  Her heart leapt with knowledge of his success as Tom’s triumphant crow of “This is excellent news!” rang from the room before she had even reached it.  She tried to wait patiently as his family thanked him enthusiastically. But she longed for a moment to greet him as well.  </p><p>However, it did not immediately come.  Even as Tom continued to expound upon their salvation, Sidney would not meet her eyes.  </p><p>Her elation began to dispel into concern the longer his gaze fell everywhere but hers. Was the rug so much more interesting than the woman he had all but proclaimed to love? </p><p>She chastised herself for such an ungracious thought.  </p><p>But even as the room emptied and they were left alone, he would not look at her.  Her trepidation grew in her chest like a hard knot. </p><p>When they were alone at last, he met her gaze briefly. And she suddenly wished he were looking at the floor again.  </p><p>She’d never seen such a look on that dear face. </p><p>And in their short acquaintance, she’d seen many- anger and even fury, indifference and contempt; she’d seen him annoyed, embarrassed and amused, pensive and speechless. She’d been the cause of most, if not all, of them.  And most recently she’d seen him loving, tender and kind, attentive and so, achingly sweet.  She had enjoyed immensely that she was the source of the latter expressions as well.  </p><p>But this, there was almost no word for this- he looked haunted, as if filled with dread- like he was afraid to be alone with her- but how could that be?  As he approached her, his gaze dropped to the floor again, rising to hers again only when he stopped in front of her.  </p><p>The moments passed without his speaking, his eyes searching her face as if he were memorizing it. </p><p>She felt as though a horse had kicked her in the chest.  Her breath left her and she had a hard ache where moments before happiness bubbled- was he no longer happy to see her?  Had a week apart changed his feelings so dramatically? </p><p>His chest heaved with a deep sigh, and he attempted a smile, but that was all the more painful, as it was heavy with regret.  The pit in her stomach deepened.  Why did he not speak? </p><p>Her voice shook as she broke the silence, “What is it?”  </p><p>She took back her wish for him to speak as soon as he said her name. </p><p>The agony and desperation contained in those syllables was not something she could ever unhear.  </p><p>He took her hand as he called her his dearest Charlotte.  Her heart tried to leap at such an expression, but it couldn’t quite manage it.  Everything in the empty room held its breath as if this were a most final goodbye, and not the passionate love declaration those words should have implied.  </p><p>He squeezed her hands, just as he had done on the balcony just a week ago, and she wanted to hope; but glancing up at his face again, as he steadied himself with another breath, she steeled herself for something awful. </p><p>If someone had died, why would Tom and the other Parkers be so happy? </p><p>His breath rattled and his voice shook as he told her he could no longer ask her to marry him. While those tremors washed over her, his eyes were steady- staring into hers with that expression she could never unsee and would likely never forget. </p><p>Every word, every hard swallow of his throat, every shaky breath, every tortured look rang with regret and despair, and under all that, a plea. His eyes begged her to understand, to forgive him.  </p><p>The longer he spoke, the hollower she felt, as the weight of his words crushed her.  </p><p>She had to go. She could not stay there, with him, holding his hands, hearing his soft voice tell her that the world was ending.  </p><p>He had to stop talking, stop trying to explain.  </p><p>Of course he had done what was necessary to save Mary and the children, to save Tom.   But it was only making the helplessness of the situation be felt more keenly; only making the rending of her heart slower and more painful.  </p><p>“I understand,” she forced out.  And she did, or would, in time.  </p><p>She tried to blink back her tears, determined to force out the courtesy that such a situation would normally demand.  But how could she say such a lie? </p><p>It stuck in her throat.  She took her own shaky breath to dislodge it.  “I wish you every happiness,” she choked out at last.  She pulled her hands from his as she fled, her “Excuse me,” simply a formality- rather than a permission able to be granted.  </p><p>In her room her tears flowed freely and her body wracked with sobs. She tried to hold them in, as she had not yet heard him leave.  But they would not be stifled.  </p><p>If she had looked back in her flight, she might have seen the moment his battered heart finally broke in two. </p><p>-----</p><p>The next weeks went by in a blur.  There was much to occupy her time.  She visited with Mr. Stringer, and tried to cheer the grieving son.  But it was hard to be comforting when you were grieving your own acute loss. </p><p>But as it ever was with Mr. Stringer, he was grateful and kind.  </p><p>She played with the children, but Mary could tell her heart was not in it.  </p><p>She took walks, avoiding the cliff routes, and bathed in the sea. She’d pick up books, reading only a few pages before setting them down again. Nothing could give her peace, or more than a moment’s distraction from the hole in her chest.  </p><p>She avoided Tom’s office at all costs, leaving him to sort his work for himself.  She didn’t want to be unforgiving or ungrateful, but anything having to do with the business of rebuilding Sanditon caused her to feel like she was being pulled in two.  </p><p>And of course there was Miss Denham’s wedding. </p><p>It was a beautiful affair; the bride was beautiful and the groom radiated happiness that spread through all of their guests, and even the bride herself.  Though she probably would have denied it if asked.  </p><p>Charlotte’s own borrowed happiness was punctured when Lady Denham teased her about her (lack of) impending nuptials and then called over the one person she’d successfully avoided these last weeks.  </p><p>The Lady of the town was either far too observant and had a wicked-er sense of humor than Charlotte had given her credit for or was woefully ignorant of the pain she was inflicting.  Charlotte’s instinct led her to the former.  But it was a very cruel jest at her expense if this was another of Lady Denham’s amusements.  </p><p>As custom dictated, he had brought Mrs. Campion with him as his guest to the wedding. </p><p>Charlotte was unsurprised, and yet still unprepared for the feeling which nearly overpowered her when faced with him again. Though neither of them could maintain the gaze of the other for long.  </p><p>At a loss for topics to discuss, and a glutton for punishment apparently, she inquired after his own wedding plans.  </p><p>His simple, “Elaborate,” ripped out whatever remained of her heart. </p><p>He looked as tortured as he had the day they last spoke in Trafalgar House- a feeling she shared.  There was not a day that went by when she did not long for what might have been.  </p><p>She watched him as his intended joined them. </p><p>Almost immediately his manner shifted from discomfited to indifferent.  Mrs. Campion discourteously spoke as if he were not standing beside her, speaking for him as if he might not have his own words to say.  His sudden and complete disinterest in the conversation indicated that perhaps he did not. However, his clenched jaw betrayed his true feelings on the matter. </p><p>She watched him as he walked away, saddened more by his obvious unhappiness than her own situation.  At times these last weeks, she had taken some small comfort that he, at least, could find some measure of happiness in his arrangement.  He had after all, once loved Mrs. Campion very much.  But it seemed as if he had reverted almost completely to the spectre of a man she had first met. </p><p>The remnants of her heart ached for him. She would not wish her pain on anyone, much less the one she, even still, held so dear.  </p><p>With the wedding concluded, there was little left for Charlotte to do before returning home.  </p><p>She said her goodbyes, many of them tearful.  She truly had enjoyed her summer in Sanditon and in spite of how certain events turned out, she could not regret her time there.  She felt herself irrevocably changed by her stay- and not just by her loss.  </p><p>Her carriage passed by the clifftops that she had avoided since the day he had returned, and she found herself blinking back tears.  </p><p>But the sudden call of voices and abrupt stop of her carriage caused her to lean out the window to see the cause of the delay.  </p><p>What she saw was like something from a dream. </p><p>Sidney, dismounting from his great black horse, handing the reins to the driver, to walk unerring towards her, his eyes never leaving her.  </p><p>She opened the door and stepped down onto the grass.  </p><p>He approached her like a man possessed.  She felt warmth bloom in her chest; she had not seen such a look in his eye since… before.  Did she dare hope?  </p><p>She could hardly stop herself from doing so now.  </p><p>He stopped only a step before her, drawing a breath.  He may as well have taken hers, for she no longer had a wisp of air in her body.  </p><p>“I couldn’t let you go without,” he began, pausing to catch his breath.  He must have ridden hard to catch her. Her heart swelled at the thought. </p><p>But when the seconds passed without his finishing that sentence, her happiness began to ebb. </p><p>Her fragile hopes shattered  completely the moment he did speak. </p><p>Once again she found herself fighting against her own overwhelming emotions to reassure him. He, who had broken her heart and traded their future, was again pleading for her understanding, for her regard. </p><p>If only she loved him less, she might have refused him, or repeated the hurtful words he had once hurled at her while standing in the streets of Sanditon.  </p><p>But she could not.    </p><p>Instead, she forgave him, but it was still not enough- still he persisted. Her heart would not be spared any agony at all it seemed.  </p><p>His assurance that he did not love his future wife did nothing to assuage her pain.  She could not bear the idea that they were both desolate in their circumstances. She rebuked him, and elicited a promise that he would do his best by his intended.  </p><p>It seemed as if he would keep her there forever, both drowning in their agony.  Remaining always close enough to pull her close, yet forever unable to do so. </p><p>She was about to beg her leave, when he finally bid her goodbye.  </p><p>She would remember forever the way his voice sounded as he said her name.  </p><p>It would have to be enough. </p><p>She bade him goodbye, her voice cracking as she climbed back into the carriage. For a moment she saw him standing alone on the clifftop, with only his horse as company.  But she turned her eyes forward, forcing herself not to watch as she drove away.   </p><p>The carriage pulled away and she-</p><p>“Charlotte!  Sidney has returned!  He has done it!  Come quickly!” Tom’s voice startled her out of her slumber.  </p><p>She looked around in confusion at her room in Trafalgar House.  </p><p>She looked down to see her letter, ruined by droplets of water.  She wiped her cheek to discover she had been crying.  </p><p>Reality finally dawned.  It had been a dream!  </p><p>Only a dream!  She wanted to laugh or maybe dance in her happiness.  </p><p>But, she pulled up short.  Sidney had returned- with good news.  Surely… surely her dream was not prophetic- her heart’s own warning so that she not be so disconsolate should the worst occur.  </p><p>She shook her head, clearing it of such nonsense.  No.  That was silly.  </p><p>She wiped her eyes and straightened her dress before joining the Parkers downstairs.  </p><p>Even so, her final few steps into the room were a bit hesitant.  </p><p>Sidney looked up from hugging Mary to meet her eyes, and his face lit up as if powered by the sun.  His smile certainly rivaled that celestial body.  She was momentarily stunned.  </p><p>He did not suffer from the same paralysis however, and crossed the room in quick strides.  </p><p>He took her hands in his, “My dearest Charlotte.”  His voice was as warm as his hands, his face as gentle as that ill-fated night on the balcony. </p><p>She thought her heart might burst, hearing those words said in such a manner.  </p><p>“I’d love nothing more than to finish our conversation now, if you don’t mind” she glanced around at the assembled Parkers, who were openly staring at their brother and the young woman he was standing almost scandalously close to. </p><p>“Um, here?” she asked weakly, hoping he would recognize the spectacle they were making. </p><p>He didn’t take his eyes from her, entirely unconcerned with the rest of the room, so she raised no further protest. “I have thought of little else while I was away, and I do not wish to wait another moment to know if you would consent to be my wife.” He took a breath, his eyes never leaving hers; so he probably didn’t notice the jaws of his siblings- particularly Tom- noticeably drop.  </p><p>“Charlotte, as I told you before, I am far from perfect, but your influence has improved me, nearly every day that I have known you. You have made me a better man.  But more than that, I love you, Charlotte, and I want to care for you for all the rest of my days.”  He smiled that softest smile, the one that lit up his eyes and left her utterly defenseless, before he continued. “Please, Charlotte, do me the honor of becoming my wife.”  </p><p>Her eyes filled with tears for the second time that day as she gave him her emphatic consent.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I will admit, Persuasion is one of the few Austen books I've neither read nor watched a movie for.  (I do intend to remedy that, but time is an elusive thing...) </p><p>So when I picked this prompt for this idea, it was a far more literal interpretation. That literally, because of love and their journey to finding it, their hearts were opened. (His particularly, having been so walled off prior.)  And the happy ending I had planned seemed to fit the bill. </p><p>But about halfway through writing, I decided to look up the quote and find its origin... and realized how serendipitous this fic was to the actual context of the quote.  (Lovers torn asunder, and then reunited- in a way) </p><p>On a lighter note... When this idea occurred to me and I mentioned it to my husband he laughed and asked if I was really going to "Dallas" Episode 8.  I was like, yup! </p><p>I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  I do love me some angst... (Probably one of many reasons I like this show) :p  </p><p>Let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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